According to some local legends, it is necessary to hunt and prepare your own haggis, in order that you enjoy the full flavour and quality of this Scottish delicacy.On All Hallows eve, you must leave home an hour before dark, making your way to the darkest, dampest, smelliest bog, on the highest moor within travelling distance. Set yourself amongst the heather before dark, wriggling down into the marsh mud to ensure complete cover, and wait.
Sometime around midnight, and you will know that it's time when you are beyond the point of shivering, you will begin to hear the haggis come out.
Strange droning sounds you will hear, as the critters scurry from dry patch to dry patch playing their bagpipes, searching for any poor sod who was daft enough to take the time to listen to fairy stories. 
Oh that's offal, and so is Haggis, but it is delicious, and the best possible preparation for a heavy night of celebration.
It's known for it's absorbant qualities, increasing the quantity of alcohol any mere mortal could consume in one night, and for preparing the stomach in avoiding a tough time later when after just one or two too many, people suddenly begin to act as though the toilet pan were the embodiment of their most lustful fantasy 
and hold onto it more fiercely than any child who is under threat of having their comfort blanket thrown in the washing machine! 
Preparation of Haggis;
Ingredients; 1 Sheep's Bag and Pluck
1/2 lb pin head oatmeal
1/4lb pin head oatmeal
4 level table spoons salt
2 level teaspoons pepper
4 medium onions (blanched)
1 level teaspoonful powdered herbs
Wash the bag in cold water, scrape and clean it well, let it lie all night with a little salt. Wash the pluck, put it in a pan of boiling water and boil for two hours with the windpipe hanging out.
When cold, cut off the windpipe, grate the liver, chop the heart, lights, suet and onions,add the oatmeal (which should first be toasted and not coloured), salt , pepper, herbs and 1 pint liquid in which pluck was boiled. Mix well, fill the bag rather more than half full with the mixture, then sew it up, place in boiling water and boil for 3 hours. Prick the bag occasionally to prevent explosion.
Alternatively, go to the butchers, and buy a pre-prepared one, it's so much better getting a professional to prepare it for you and he's probably a better cook! Serve with mashed potatoes and turnip.
Address To A Haggis - Robert Burns
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn,
they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent lyke drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
"Bethankit!" 'hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!
The Translation
Fair is your honest happy face
Great chieftain of the pudding race
Above them all you take your place
Stomach, tripe or guts
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm
The groaning platter there you fill
Your buttocks like a distant hill
Your skewer would help to repair a mill
In time of need
While through your pores the juices emerge
Like amber beads
His knife having seen hard labour wipes
And cuts you up with great skill
Digging into your gushing insides bright
Like any ditch
And then oh what a glorious sight
Warm steaming, rich
Then spoon for spoon
They stretch and strive
Devil take the last man, on they drive
Until all their well swollen bellies
Are bent like drums
Then, the old gent most likely to rift (burp)
Be thanked, mumbles
Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with a sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner
Poor devil, see him over his trash
As week as a withered rush (reed)
His spindle-shank a good whiplash
His clenched fist.the size of a nut.
Through a bloody flood and battle field to dash
Oh how unfit
But take note of the strong haggis fed Scot
The trembling earth resounds his tread
Clasped in his large fist a blade
He'll make it whistle
And legs and arms and heads he will cut off
Like the tops of thistles
You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotland wants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis!
Translation by The World Burns Club. http://www.worldburnsclub.com/begin/address_to_a_haggis.htm
Ya know, I am a real trooper when it comes to trying new things 
,but, I am afraid it would go something like... 
then... 
, not so far removed from iron age round houses. Modern crofters (post 18thc) did improve them a bit and made them more hygeinic, but even until the highland clearances in the 18thc, not much had changed since iron age times. So the big pot on the fire was still the main means of cooking until (relatively) recently. Life really was pretty basic.